


Heaven Can Wait (Slightly remastered in it's entirety)

by fueledbypeterick



Category: Fall Out Boy, Peterick - Fandom
Genre: Angel!Patrick, Devil!Pete, M/M, NSFW, Peterick, pete/mikey for such a short time, sorry this took so long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 19:03:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8113894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fueledbypeterick/pseuds/fueledbypeterick
Summary: Pete Wentz is the owner of a sleazy nightclub. Patrick Stump is an angel on a mission. (Finished)





	

606 Ashland Ave, Chicago, IL. He crumbled the paper with the address. 

An obnoxious bright red building stood in the center of the dead end street. The trim along the entrance black; the door covered in silver glitter. No posters or catchy phrases to draw the people into becoming regular visitors. Just the club’s name in black, large calligraphy: Luxuria. The carnal term for general desire. A regular hole in the wall with a fancy, well thought out name. 

Patrick had swallowed the knot in his throat and it was now uncomfortably swimming in his stomach. There were so many questions he still needed the answers to. For one, how did I die? Maybe, why can’t I remember anything from my life? Or possibly even, what if I don’t want wings? But no, the upper class angels gave him no time to ask anything. It was only, “Here’s your assignment. You’ll know what to do when you arrive”. The next thing he knew he was waking up in a dumpster a few blocks down and being chased by some angry raccoons. Those guys were lucky he had great directional skills. 

From his point of view everything but the building itself, the people lining up directly in front of the door and the small shrubs surrounding it were blurry. The blur came with a raging headache and high pitched screeching that would surely drive him insane if he was subject to them long enough. He had no choice to look away; no choice but to ‘begin the assignment’. 

The outside of Luxuria did no justice to the inside. The walls where a much darker red, or at least that’s the way they looked with the dim lighting. The texture of them seemed almost velvet the closer he walked toward them. Many normal light bulbs had been replaced with red ones. The bar was strategically placed to be the first thing a customer found when entering. Patrick didn’t think ‘angels-in-training’ could consume any alcohol, plus he didn’t think those jerks sent him down with any money anyway. 

“Can I just have a water?”, the burly man behind the bar’s counter must have never been asked such a question. He let out a hefty laugh and said something about how Patrick shouldn’t make it so obvious that he’s a first timer. Handing him what looked like apple juice, but certainly was not, the man politely gave some advice, “it’s on the house. drink up, watch your back”. Patrick rolled his eyes only when he knew the bartender wasn’t looking his way anymore. 

“He’s right, you know”, the voice from behind him startled him and he jumped. The liquid in his glass sloshed and splashed nearly out its container. “And I thought people were into hospitality? Guess not.” Patrick spun around to place a face to the voice. The man was wearing a silver form fitting suit jacket and the tightest black pants he had ever seen. He found himself wondering if in better lighting whether or not they would allow him to see an outline.. 

“Not much of a talker? That’s alright.” He wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath and his skin reminded Patrick of what salted caramel tasted like. Suddenly he wasn’t feeling so hot, kinda queasy actually. “We can start off with who you are.” The tone was demanding; intimidating. The straw in front of his face from that free alcohol was just calling his name while he thought of an answer. He sipped, well, gulped, a third of the drink down.

“Actually, we’ll skip that. I’m Pete, but I swear I’ll answer to anything.” 

Patrick smiled, nodding his head. “I’m..” In this moment he discovered that he couldn’t remember his own name. His eyes shot to the ceiling where he silently wondered why they never filled him in on that. “You kinda come off as something dorky, like Patrick.” Pete laughed. “Yeah, Patrick it is. Always liked the name.” Just as he was finishing off the glass, Pete motioned to the bartender. Round two was in front of him before he could process the buzz from the first one. 

“Oh, thanks. I probably shouldn’t be drinking.” 

“Why? No rules here.”

He was knocking out the second round like a certified champion. The conversation getting further and further away from him. The walls surrounding him were swirling, but maybe that was only an effect of the wallpaper. Was he failing already? Until he was pushed against the bar, Patrick was honestly wondering if the angels would cut him some slack. Pete was pinning him against the surface. His voice hot, low and rigid in his ear. “You’re the prettiest thing that’s ever come through that door.”

Who does this guy think he is? He could feel his pants getting tighter with each second. He had to think of something quick to say. Everything was spinning; the bar lights, Pete's words, Patrick's eyes. "I’ve got to go pee." Pete rolled his eyes and pointed in the direction of the unisex bathroom in a darker part of the club's main floor. 

Patrick was stopped on his way by a 10/10 blonde who spoke like she was dazed out on drugs. "you’re sooooo lucky. he never picks out people that fast. I’ve been trying to get him to notice me for years." 

Patrick nearly cuts her off, snapping back at her, "yeah, who the fuck is he anyway?" The color was returning to her face, returning years of drug abuse to her skin. 

"He's the big guy around here. Head honcho. Do you want something while I’ve got you here?" She must have noticed the rising problem in his pants. Before Patrick could shake his head, the girl realized her chances of getting Pete to finally notice her, and pushes Patrick into the bathroom. 

The stall was nearly falling apart. Graffiti words covered the sections separating the toilets. Patrick had no idea he was this fucked up. The bartender must have put something in one of those drinks. The girl was unzipping his pants and Patrick was trying to focus his eyes on initials written inside a heart. P.W? He was wondering if Pete's last name started with a 'w'. 

Then wondering why he had a beautiful girl on her knees and he was thinking about Pete at all. Patrick was too drunk to feel much of what she was doing, but the slurping sound of her tongue on his cock sent his head back. His hips began swinging into her mouth. She was making small noises around him for the sake of vibrations.

When he went to grab a handful of her long, shiny blonde hair, he found that it had disappeared. His eyes shot open to see his hands full of short, jet-black hair instead. Pete's brown eyes were looking up at him for approval.

"Oh fuck! no, youve gotta be kidding me" He backed away from grasp, hearing the voice of the girl once again before he slipped on some sort of liquid and fell backwards. That was when the night ended for him. Blackout by the blunt force of his head hitting the toilet. 

 

Patrick peeled his eyes open, literally, feeling sunlight coming from an open window on his skin. There was a ringing in his ears that he hoped he never had to experience again. In his head was an indistinguishable pounding to partner the obnoxious ring. When his eyes finished focusing he took a moment to sit wide eyed and begin piecing together what the hell happened and how he ended up here. He certainly wasn’t in the club anymore. No, he was in a king sized bed, in a bedroom with pure white walls and upscale decor. He sat up, dangling his legs off the side of the bed.

Every piece of furniture was black, black like Pete’s hair the night before. That reminded him, what the fuck was that. That was the least of his worries, he decided. The floor was hardwood, dark and yearning for him to step down on. Patrick was wearing the same thing as the night before, black pants, red cardigan and dark grey shirt. At least, he thinks that’s what he was wearing last night? Also, the least of his worries. 

Standing was a lot harder than he thought it was going to be. He must have really knocked himself out in that stall. It took him a few moments of keeping his balance before he remembered why he was even at that club in the first place. 

An arm wrapped around his back, catching him before he repeated the fall from last night. “As happy as I am to see your handsome face this early in the morning, you need to sit the fuck down.” Pete's voice was different than what he remembered from last night. He was too weak to fight him. So, he returned to his seat of the edge of the bed. "Where am I?" Pete gave a famous grin, one that Patrick was sure all the girls like the one from the night before loved. "My place." Panic set in Patrick's mind. A world of awful possibilities were forming. Pete could see that in his eyes. "oh my god." Pete let Patrick take his time to gather his thoughts, obviously racking his brain for memory of sin, finally laughing when he had given up. 

"We didn’t do anything. Anything important, anyway. You're still on their good list." 

"Them?"

Pete's face was unamused with Patrick's attempt at being humble. "Oh, you didn't think I knew you were an angel? We don’t get a lot around Luxuria. You made it kinda painfully obvious. Like a sore thumb. Plus, I checked out those nubs-that-are-begging-to-become-wings on your back" That was it. Patrick had blew his cover. Was he supposed to let it get out what he was? "How do you know my status with them?"  
Pete, not skipping a beat, let Patrick in on a secret. 

"I've been around enough to know. But, like I said, none as pretty as you." By this time, Patrick was feeling a hot flush in his cheeks. A sharp pain coming from the side of his head was slowly in a state of resignation. It was becoming apparent that he probably needed to lay back down. So, he did, holding his forehead in his hand on the way down. "God, what happened last night? " Pete made a joke about how God wouldn’t know because he wasn’t there, but Patrick didn’t laugh. 

Patrick responded with, "No, like, who was that girl? How did you do that in the stall?"

Pete rolled his eyes at the mention of the girl. "She's such a succubus. An understudy, really. And whatever happened in that stall was between you and her. Why would I have anything to do with that?" Pete looked confused with a hint of anger. He's going to have a word with her the next time he sees her. He specifically pointed out Patrick for his own the moment he walked in. He could only imagine what she did to him. "I just found you in the stall covered in your own vomit. It was quite the scene. Maybe you should stay away from the juice for a while, kid." 

Patrick wanted to ask how he knew where to find him, but again, least of his problems right now. He would ask later. After this headache subsided anyway. He declined to ask why he was seeing and feeling Pete give him head instead of the girl, but he thought maybe it was an awkward thing to ask. 

"How hard did I hit my head? I should probably get to a hospital." He began to sit up and Pete lightly pushed him back down again. "You think that I wouldn't have taken you if you needed medical attention? You're fine. Just a bump to the head. Granted, it was enough to knock you out. But, no real damage done." There was the smile again. Patrick thought maybe it was a 'Pete original', something he used to get what he wanted. 

“You’re not a doctor too, are you?” Patrick asked, only half sarcastic.

“No, but I could be if that’s what you wanted?” This was a question. Not a statement and that confused Patrick. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what Pete wanted from him. 

 

The rest of the house looked almost identical to the bedroom. Same white walls, expensive decor and black furniture and appliances. Must be a pretty popular club destination. Patrick didn’t remember seeing that many people lined up. Pete seemed like a shady guy though, maybe he did stuff on the side. 

But, the puke that he was talking about that Patrick had himself covered with meant that Pete was at least nice enough to wash his clothes. Also meant that he had been stripped down. How would he have seen the wannabe wings otherwise? Patrick couldn’t remember a thing about his human life, much less about the body he was in. So, he never thought to check is he was ‘adequate’. Not that his dick size mattered to an angel or someone who was somewhat looking after one. 

 

“What are your plans for the night, angel?” Pete sat on one of the leather couches, not facing where Patrick was standing. There is no way he could have known that Patrick entered the room, but this was his apartment so he wasn’t going to question it. 

Patrick hesitated to answer. He probably shouldn’t tell Pete about the ‘assignment’, but what else was he going to say? “Um, I was thinking about going back to your club. Why?” This struck Pete as odd. He knew all angels had assignments and he had a hunch that his had something to do with getting his club shut down. “Well, I was thinking maybe we could ditch the club scene tonight and go for dinner somewhere. My treat. I don’t want to be picking your cute ass off the floor again.” The hot feeling in Patrick’s cheeks was coming back and he found himself smiling. “Angels can date?” This was something Patrick was genuinely concerned about.

“Who said date? Did I say date? You said date.” Pete said, all the while keeping that now familiar smile. “But, I like the sound of that, Patrick. Date it is.” 

This was probably the complete opposite of why Patrick was sent down here. He waited for a moment for one of the elite to fly down and retrieve him, but apparently he hadn’t pissed them off enough just yet. He figured talking to the owner of the place in depth may help him figure out why he was assigned to it. 

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Patrick was smiling for some of the first times since he had been placed here. 

 

Patrick spent the remainder of the afternoon before his date on Pete’s tv. Pop culture was really weird. He could not remember any of it, as hard as he tried. The want to remember his human life was becoming overwhelming. Was that normal? Shouldn’t someone just be happy to know they made it to heaven? Or, was he really in heaven yet since he didn’t have his wings? He was beginning to wonder why anyone would want to remember reality tv trash in the afterlife. Pete wasn’t sitting by him and actually, Patrick think he might have heard him say something about coming back later and then the door being closed and locked. He wasn’t sure if the lock was to keep him in or to keep anyone out. 

When he returned to the bedroom a grey button down was laid on the bed, along with black slacks and dress shoes. A note saying, “i hope this is okay -pw” sat on top. Patrick immediately recognized the initials as the same ones inside the heart in the bathroom stall. Pete must really be a hit with everyone. Patrick started at wondering what the ‘w’ stood for, to thinking why it mattered, to the handwriting it was written in, and to back to being in the stall with Pete’s head bobbing between his thighs, sucking slower once he got to the head. But, Patrick was putting a spin on things with this daydream. In his fantasy, it was Pete the entire time. He was the one pushing him into the stall and there was kissing involved. Patrick imagined what Pete’s tongue would taste like, and he would ask him if he liked the taste of his cock in his mouth. Fantasy Pete would nod slightly, humming around him in approval. Pete would have just the rhythm Patrick would need to spill into his mouth, Patrick’s mouth open and wanting Pete to be back on his feet to kiss him, the taste of himself still on his lips.

Patrick was removing his pants to change into the clothes Pete provided when he accidentally walked into the room and startled him out of his fantasy land.

“Oh, shit. Sorry. Nice ass.” Pete couldn’t help himself. Being the lord of desire himself, it would be a crime not to comment on something as mouthwatering as the sight. Patrick scoffed, feeling as if Pete knew everything he was daydreaming about. Couldn’t be any more embarrassing than being passed out on the ground of a piss covered bathroom stall. Patrick found a lot of solace in that, because Pete must have really liked him if he went through all of it and still wanted to take him out. 

Once he finished, buttoning down the shirt and rolling the sleeves up, he revealed his look. 

“Even better than I expected.” 

“Whatever. Where are we going?” Patrick took the compliment, but he just didn’t want to show it. Pete was in a red button down with a black tie and the tight jeans he never seemed to want to part with. Patrick wanted to return the favor, but he refrained.

“Cite. It’s got a rad view of Lake Michigan.” 

They were seated promptly in a dim corner right beside the window’s view. Pete wasn’t kidding, it really was a nice sight. The lights of downtown Chicago lit a fire in Patrick. He was almost positive that this was where he ended his human life. The chairs were leather, the lights gave the entire room almost a gold color. If Patrick was going to treat anyone to a date, it would be here. 

A waitress much taller than both of them arrived at the table, instantly making eyes at Pete as if she knew him. He was returning the gaze and Patrick was noticing all too much. The woman trembled when speaking and Pete was showing off those teeth again, eating this up. He ordered drinks for the both of them and embarrassed Patrick by almost telling the story of the night before  
when she asked if they wanted wine. Pete watched her walk away. It was almost if he was controlling her moves with his eyes. He didn’t break the stare until she was unable to be seen. 

“uh, so” Patrick was desperately trying to not bring that up, “since you’re so knowledgeable about angels, what are your religious beliefs?”

Pete sat quietly for a second before taking a sip of the water the waitress had just brought to their table and shaking his head. “No, nope. I don’t talk about politics or religion on the first date.” Patrick was laughing out loud but he did have to admit that was kind of strange. His idea would be to get all of that on the table as soon as possible.

Pete’s voice cut Patrick off from his upcoming witty response, “What brings you to Chicago, to my club specifically?” His voice was much darker now. 

 

Patrick gave Pete the look. The one that he hoped was going to reveal everything about his assignment without him having to say it outloud. But, that’s what Pete wanted. Suddenly, Patrick’s stomach was shaking and he wasn’t feeling so comfortable with the setting anymore. “Looks like you know already,” If he had known Pete longer, that probably would have been in the format of a question. Why deny it now? I mean, really, what would Pete do to hurt Patrick? He was an angel. He couldn’t kill him or anything. But, when it came down to Pete’s income, Patrick wasn’t so sure he could read what Pete would do. 

He wasn’t the strongest willed of all the angels Pete had ever seen, that was clear. Pete’s smile didn’t come in as full this time. Just a smirk with, “Good luck” attached. There was no reason to speak of it anymore. 

“So, what kind of model citizen were you in your ‘real’ life?” Curiosity set in, but Patrick knew he couldn’t give him an answer.

“I can’t remember. Am I supposed to be able to?” Pete took on a look of shock. Yes, every angel, including himself, the ‘fallen one’ had a memory of what they were like as a human. This made no sense to Pete. Unless they were changing stuff around up there, everything should be the same. 

“Generally, yeah.” Pete searched his brain,his memories of heaven to try and come up with an explanation. Not just for himself, but for the now frightened sparkling new angel sitting across the dinner table from him. The waitress cut off his train of thought with gliding back to the table once again to bring them the food that they had ordered and to refill their drinks. Pete locked onto her again, directing her again. Patrick was mad now. Who takes someone out on a date just to obsessively check out someone else? 

“Why are we here, Pete? So you can grill me about why I’m here or maybe, I don’t know, eye fuck the waitress?” Pete was laughing now, a low hard chuckle. 

“Trust me, Patrick, if I was eye fucking anyone you would know. Just thinking I know her from somewhere. That’s all.” The genuine tone in his voice took every ounce of anger and jealousy away in Patrick’s mind, who couldn’t figure out why he was feeling those things in the first place. Developing feelings for anyone, especially the owner of the club you’ve been sent down to destroy, is probably in the rule book as a no-no somewhere.

Pete took a sip from the glass again, putting on his best charm face. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He was leaning back in the chair now. Patrick jumped when he felt a foot cross over his, rubbing the side of his ankle. “Uhmm..” Pete continued this a few more times to get his point across. Patrick was entering another universe where fantasy Pete was at it again, under the dinner table and running his hands up Patrick’s thighs. Maybe he could keep a straight face while his new subject-to-fantasy was jerking him off. 

“Patrick..Patrick?” The sound of his voice snapped him back into where he actually was.

“Oh, yeah, this is a great place.” Why did he keep lusting over Pete? This was becoming ridiculous. 

The worst part was, Pete could see it in Patrick’s face. Could see the lust pouring out of his glazed over, daydreamy eyes. If only Pete could see what was behind him. He’s the devil, why couldn’t he get a cool ability like that? Pete was having his own dreams on the opposite side of the table, filled with Patrick sprawled out on the table, Pete moving stuff off of it when he pushed him onto it. Fantasy Patrick would moan out when Pete took to his neck, kissing and sucking and using a hand to grab his dick, which would still be clothed, but not for much longer. 

“I had a feeling you would like it. I can make this city yours, you know?” Pete looked over, scanning the view as he spoke. Patrick almost laughed at the overbearing confidence Pete seemed to have. Again with a who does this guy think he is?

Their next stop was a fairly inexpensive frozen yogurt spot thirty-six minutes from the restaurant, which was taken by a limo ride. Pete insisted that it be this yogurt place and not the three they passed on the way there. Most of the ride went like how the rest of dinner was; silent, up until Patrick made a realization about his current housing. He was nervous about inviting himself to stay with Pete, but he actually had no other place to go. Those angels really had bad arrangement skills, he figured and what better time to break the silence. “Hey, could I possibly” He paused because he thought for a moment he was going to chicken out and the way Pete was looking at him with hopeful eyes was kind of making him feel weak, “stay over again? Just until I figure out something?” 

Pete took on a look of a kid who just received the exact gift he had been wanting all year for Christmas. He didn’t respond for a few moments, just in awe. Patrick was keeping in mind that his goal in all of this was to take down Luxuria, and he really would, but he needed sleep first. He hoped the elite would understand. 

“Angel or not, I like you too much to leave you stranded.” Patrick wondered why being an angel would be seen as a negative thing. A question for another day. 

The yogurt joint was almost as easy on the eyes as the view from Cite. The color coordination made Patrick at ease. The options for the self serve yogurt and toppings felt like they were endless; Patrick picking out healthy toppings and Pete heading straight for the peanut butter chips and gummy bears. It was humorous to Patrick to see the owner of a club known for sexual encounters and drug use to be so innocently childlike. He watched him continue to pile calories on top of more calories and felt that funny weak feeling again. But, it was better than having fantasy Pete doing something seductively weird with his yogurt, right?

A shorter girl with shoulder length red hair was eyeing Patrick. Pete stepped forward to the counter when she was charging them based on the weight of each cup, to put a barrier between the female and the angel. Patrick’s was considerably less than Pete’s. Her face turned sour and Pete reached for Patrick’s hand behind him. 

Patrick wasn’t going to be that easy. He kept his hand tucked in his pocket, making Pete hold his hand out for nothing more than to look semi rejected by him. The girl smirked like she had defeated Pete in the unspoken debate. If Pete lost Patrick to a normal human girl he would never forgive himself. 

 

Pete suggested that they take the dessert to go. 

Once they had reached the limo, shut the door and got comfortable Patrick let him have it.  
“So what was that? Jealousy? It’s funny how that didn’t work out in your favor. Just like it didn’t work out for me at dinner.” 

“So, you were jealous?”

“...No, I’m just” Pete cut him off without having to even speak. Patrick could see his white teeth gleam through the darkness, getting clearer with every street light they went passed. 

“You’ve got it bad, angel. Just admit it.” Patrick could have strangled Pete at that very moment, but he knew he would end up on top of him and fantasy Pete would have full control over him again. Fantasy Pete would hold him down in his lap and tilt his head up to kiss him, wild and hard. Patrick would grind on Pete while they kissed and Pete would moan in the way Patrick would want him to; Low and almost animalistic. 

Patrick had room to think that Pete was controlling these bursts of fantasy. It was really starting to piss him off. There was no possible way he would get this assignment done when all he could think about was fucking the guy who he had to stop. 

He didn’t speak for the rest of the ride back to Pete’s apartment. Pete smiled the entire way back. 

Pete flicked the lights on once they were inside, illuminating the apartment’s main entrance. Everything was just how Patrick remembered it. Surprisingly clean, now that he had seen Pete’s eating habits at Forever Yogurt. Not a pot or pan in sight when they strolled through the kitchen into the living room, with Pete turning all the lights on like a paranoid junkie. Patrick was watching his body movements like a hawk. 

Making his way to the thermostat, Pete loosened his tie, unbuttoning each button with every step. 

“Hope you don’t mind, ‘rick. But it’s ridiculously hot in here” With that, Pete removed the shirt, revealing a few things Patrick didn’t notice at the club. Pete was covered in tattoos and Patrick was sure he had ‘lust’ written on his forehead. The club’s lights must have been too dark that first night to see the ink. Patrick caught himself licking his lips just at the sight of Pete shirtless from behind. The front was worse and partly because he had to mask the expression on his face. 

Instead, Patrick looked stern, like he had just scolded someone for a mistake they had made. 

He was beginning to feel awkward as Pete sat down on the leather couch and stared back up at him while he was remained standing. Patrick made a face. Something in between, ‘oh, i didn’t know i could sit down’ and some other polite bullshit. Sitting down, he faced Pete, with his arm on the back of the couch and his hands nervously playing with his own hair. 

“Thanks for taking me out. I haven’t had a date like that since, well, as far as I can remember.” They both laughed at this, even though Patrick’s circumstances were depressingly strange.

“It’s the least I can do for someone who wants to ruin me.” Pete didn’t smile. Patrick’s stomached dropped. 

“I don’t know about ‘want’.” He didn’t know how else to respond to Pete. He did however, want to comfort him, which made him feel sick. Why would he want to embrace someone who was causing so much sin? Wasn’t that against angel-code? 

“Do you not know what the fuck an ‘assignment’ is to them? That’s all they are worried about. If you don’t succeed you’re sent to hell along with the rest of them. You might as well be in purgatory.” 

Pete’s voice had a certain sadness to it. Like he had been practicing the lines for years. Patrick had the liquid of tears growing in the insides of his eyes. He hadn’t thought of it that way, but maybe Pete was right. For the first real time, Patrick was beginning to doubt himself.

Pete pointed to the bedroom Patrick woke up in that morning. “That’s where you’ll be sleeping.”

“What about you?” 

“I don’t use it. I don’t sleep.” Patrick smiled through the fading tears, chuckling because he felt like that was a joke. 

“Why is it there, then?”

Pete turned his head toward Patrick, smirking only with one side of his mouth. “Why do you think?”

There it was again, that sour jealous feeling in Patrick’s stomach. Pete didn’t ask why Patrick was storming to the bedroom, like a kid having a tantrum. He just raised his voice to say,“There’s some clothes for you to sleep in on the bed.” followed by the slamming of the door.

‘fucking angels’ Pete muttered under his breath. 

 

Patrick didn’t come out for the rest of the night. Not for a midnight drink or snack. Not for a late night run to the bathroom; nothing. 

While Pete normally was doing lord of darkness stuff like making a list of virgins or drinking the blood of the innocent, instead he was checking on Patrick every one to two hours on the dot. Every time stuck his head in, the angel was fast asleep, actually snoring. 

At noon, Pete began getting worried. There was no indication that Patrick was going to wake up anytime soon. 

At 4pm Pete was laying on the opposite side of the bed, watching Patrick breathe. He wasn’t dead but Pete was beginning to fear that he might have gone into a coma. He had kicked each layer of blanket that was once covering him up. Pete covered him back,one blanket at a time. He closed his eyes and tried to remember what it felt like to be an angel. His mind wandered back to his predicament quickly; Patrick still had no idea who he was. Pete couldn’t tell him. Pete was now staring at him through the hair that fell in his face and from even this view Pete knew he was falling in love, with an angel no less. This was probably the worst situation he had ever gotten himself into since he was cast out of heaven. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but to smile when Patrick took a deep breath in his sleep just to let it back out again. 

His hand left it’s place on the bed and reached for the angel’s face, taking the palm and running it down to his chin. Patrick’s skin was just the soft texture Pete had imagined. Patrick didn’t burn at the touch or scream out in pain like a normal angel would. Something told Pete he was allowed. That maybe Patrick was an exception. Pete’s hand was now in Patrick’s hair. He ran his hand through it a few times, catching his fingers in small tangles. 

When Patrick woke up, it was 6:30 pm and Pete was inches away from his face. 

“Woah! When the fuck did you get in here?” Patrick immediately felt the headache of oversleeping. “And what fucking time is it?” 

Pete leaped his head forward, meeting Patrick’s lips before he had much of a chance to reject the kiss. Patrick thought if he was more awake he would think twice about kissing him back. The kiss lasted longer than they both intended. Patrick too shy to use tongue, Pete too excited to be kissing him to remember to use any.

“You know, for an angel you’ve got a dirty mouth. And it’s two hours before the club opens. Better get in there and do some holy work! See ya.” Pete took on a preacher’s voice for the added effects and got up from the bed, slapping Patrick’s clothed ass on the way out. 

Patrick sat stunned, still under the covers. He didn’t remember Pete putting them back on him or when he was touching him in his sleep. His face had to be the color of blush in this moment. He sat up, quickly noticing where all the blood in his body had went to. Standing up, Patrick tried holding down his erection for the sake of his pride and also because it was becoming painful. No lightning strike or beam back up (or down) to heaven because of a little kiss that caused a boner, so Patrick figured the assignment was still a ‘go’.

He wasn’t going to fuck up this time. No more taking alcoholic drinks from strangers and no more blow jobs from drug addicts in bathroom stalls and definitely no more blacking out. Patrick was putting back on the clothes he came down to earth with and he was going to go into this club with all ‘guns a blazin’. He was going to shut this place down because he didn’t want to fall in love with the owner. Another morning like that and Patrick would be in deep shit, as far as he was concerned. 

 

Patrick was in the middle of trying to channel his photographic memory side as he walked into Luxuria for the second time. This time though, things weren’t as he remembered. The temperature was much hotter and for some reason the walls were a much brighter red, if not orange. It set off his senses as alarming, but he didn’t want that to show on his face. The music had such a low tempo that Patrick second guessed if he came to the same club. Everyone seemed to also be moving slower. All around, every person in the club was in costume. Not different costumes. They were all in cheap off brand Halloween store devil costumes. The women in skimpy red shirts and too revealing skirts with tails, horns and devil’s pitchfork. The men in tight red shirts and short shorts. 

He sat at the bar and the bartender from the other night recognized him, with a different tone this time. “You’re determined. I was taking bets from behind this counter, ya know, on how long you’d be around.” Patrick, unamused with what the bartender thought was humor, responded with, “Give me an actual water this time. None of that other shit.” 

“Mouthy. Wonder why the boss likes you so much” The bartender was disapproving, but handed Patrick a small, see through plastic cup with a tiny black straw. 

“I’ll be back for refills.” Patrick assured him. The bartender made a face but nodded. 

Making his way through the crowd, he bumped into countless people who were dancing to the almost trance-like music. The air was musty from the sweat of human bodies. There was smoke on the floor but Patrick didn’t understand the effect the club was putting on. He was searching for the girl from the night before everywhere to apologize for what happened. That was a good start to his second night being at Luxuria. 

The problem was, no one had seem him when he was there last. Patrick could understand why. Everything happened so quickly from the moment he was walking to the bathroom to the moment he slipped and blacked out. There was not a lot of time for anyone other than Pete to see the girl drag him into the stall. 

When Patrick ran out of water and got tired of whisper-asking the dazed dancers, he returned to the bar for his anticipated refill. “Hey, is that girl, about ‘yay high’, blonde, here tonight?” The bartender, with a straight face, spoke, “No, she’s gone.” It was almost if he wanted to laugh, but Patrick didn’t get what was so funny about that. “Like she moved?” He was honestly clueless, but tried not to sound dumb. 

“No, she’s gone, son. Like,” 

“Dead” They both spoke in unison, Patrick’s half being a eye-opening question. 

The man grinned, nodding while he refilled the water. “Need a stronger drink yet?” 

Patrick shook his head, grabbing his drink and sitting on one of the stools. His expression was nothing less than shocked. He wanted to ask how she died and when, but he was afraid of being rude to someone who was potentially her friend at some point. But, would a friend be smiling about their friend’s death? Maybe humans were just deranged. Patrick wondered if he was like that during his life.

The silence that led after was painfully awkward. Patrick decided to break it with another question burning through his mind, “Hey, so, what’s the deal with the costumes?” 

“Special occasion.” 

“Of?”

“Just celebrating. Boss’s orders” The man winked at Patrick, which made him feel entirely uncomfortable. But, he smiled back at the bartender before getting up with his water, still full from the last refill. 

He stuck the straw back into his mouth and turned around, bumping into a not-in-costume Pete. He took Patrick into his arms so he wouldn’t fall, holding him for a few seconds so he could regain his balance. 

“Fuck! Can you stop doing that!” Patrick was angry now. He almost spilled his water. 

“I thought a few more times would do. Glad you could make it.” His smile was consuming Patrick, who was now lightheaded from all the smoke. The red shade of the lights were fucking with his vision. Everything seemed a shade of pink. Even Pete’s skin and teeth. 

“What is the special occasion?” Patrick asked, carrying more curiosity in his eyes than Pete could handle. Pete was trying to tell Patrick something about himself in the most obvious way he could think of without actually saying it out loud. He wouldn’t say it out loud; he couldn’t. 

Instead, Pete, in a moment of panic, whispered into Patrick’s ear to change the subject.

“Why don’t you step into my office, hm?” His voice was mesmerizing to Patrick. Pete grabbed his hand, locking their fingers together and led him through dark red hallways. There were people slowly kissing and engaging in acts Patrick wasn’t even aware existed. He would be afraid if Pete let go of his hand. He might not ever find his way back out. After some time, they approached a big black door, much taller and wider than either of them. 

Pete opened it with a key that he pulled from his pocket and waited until Patrick followed him in before closing it. 

He pulled Patrick in by the back of his neck, pushing his hair against his skin until they were so close that they could feel each other breathing. “You want this?” Still in that mesmerizing tone, but this time Patrick was weak at the knees. 

“Yes”

 

Pete was a professional in the art of lust, obviously. But, he wasn’t so great if the one he was lusting after also held his heart in their hands. Pete wasn’t so sure he even had a heart, but if he did, by this point, it was being held captive. He waited a few seconds to stare in Patrick’s eyes before he kissed him. The kiss was longer than the one that occurred that morning. Patrick’s lips tasted like the most sacred thing Pete could think of and it made his stomach turn.They were pink and plump and felt like they needed the corruption. It lingered, the pair not willing to break apart for air. Pete’s lips were like warm caramel in the way that they were soft and tasted like sin. 

He went straight for Patrick’s neck, kissing, sucking and biting. Pete wanted to be sure a mark was made for two reasons; one, because Patrick was his, he was his the first time he stepped into Luxuria and two, Pete wanted to see if angels could get hickies. Patrick was making the sweet noises that made Pete bite harder and suck down more, determined to see his skin redden with a future bruise. 

The red v-neck on Pete’s torso was way lower than any shirt Patrick had seen; even on the women in the club. He broke Pete from his neck, nearly having to pull him off, and dove into his chest, licking the ink that necklaced him. Patrick was sure this was against the rules, sure that this was the sin of all sins but the way Pete looked down at him when he pulled back the shirt to drag his tongue across his nipple made him care a lot less what the other angels would think. 

“How long have you wanted this?” Patrick’s question made Pete wonder how bright he really was. He had thought he was being obvious the entire time. 

“Patrick, the moment you walked into my club my world shifted. I wasn’t numb anymore. There was feeling in these old bones again. There was a light that was burning too bright inside me and I still don’t know how or if I should turn it off. I don’t know what you’re doing to me.” 

Patrick came back up to Pete’s face,kissing him in between words. 

“What are you?” Pete didn’t want to answer. He didn’t know how to answer. This was the hardest thing he has ever had to do in his ‘life’ and this was only the third day of whatever Patrick was succumbing him to. 

“Not an angel.” Technically he wasn’t lying. He had only been an angel many moons ago.

He took the opportunity to push Patrick against his desk before he could ask anymore questions. Pete put his mouth around the bulge in Patrick’s jeans that was growing rapidly. He wasted no more time and unzipped, unbuttoned everything that stood in his way from pulling out Patrick’s erection from the hole in his boxers. He couldn’t tell what color they were in the darkness of his office, but he was sure they were the same shade of green/blue as his eyes. Pete licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, which sent Patrick in a gasping fit. 

“You didn’t lock the fucking door.” Patrick said, with no intention of going to lock it himself. For an angel he sure was getting a lot of blowjobs. 

“They won’t come in here. They know better than that.” 

Pete was taking the full length of Patrick in his mouth. His tongue moved around underneath it and he was moaning along with him. 

“Don’t go easy on me. I’m no virgin.” Pete laughed some, hoping Patrick would let loose on him. 

Patrick put his hands in Pete’s hair, grasping and using his head to guide him to the rhythm he needed to finish. Pete was holding his own erection, previously undoing his pants as well and pumping his cock at the same speed that Patrick was fucking his face. There was no lube and it was rough, but Pete needed anything he could get. Just Patrick’s voice when he whined out his name was enough to send Pete over every edge he could think of. 

Pete made a noise from the bottom of his stomach, one that sent vibrations through Patrick’s body. “Fuck, do that again.” 

Pete wasn’t going to argue. He did the same three or four more times before Patrick was hunching over nearly on top of him, gripping Pete’s hair so tight that he moaned through the hot stream that was leaking into his throat. He sped up, listening to the heavenly sounds of Patrick reaching his orgasm and reached his own, Patrick’s cock still pulsing inside his mouth. 

Pete took his mouth off, riding through his orgasm a lot louder than Patrick anticipated. 

There was something supernatural about Pete’s tongue, Patrick thought. But, who was an angel to say what was supernatural or not? 

Patrick came down to Pete’s level, on his knees in Pete’s office. 

Pete giggled and pushed Patrick down to lay on the floor by his side. 

“If you’re right and I’m really in purgatory, I’m so screwed now.” 

He wasn’t feeling so guilty anymore about what he was doing to Patrick. Pure corruption. Maybe Pete could convince him to stay in hell with him for the rest of eternity. 

Pete just smiled the smile that could make Patrick do anything for him.

The only light coming into the office was from the windows that projected the light from the outside. The floor was hard and cold, but neither of them cared. The ceiling could not be seen, but Patrick could almost bet that it was decorated with some kind of mural. 

“Hey, how’d you end up owning this place?”

“I had it built. For shits and giggles. You know, I didn’t even come around much until you showed up.”

“You’re not very involved with your own income.”

“I don’t have to be. The work does itself for me.” Classic Pete line, with the classic smirk. Patrick was catching onto these things. 

He just smiled along with him. It must be easy to be ‘the boss’. “So, you understand why I’ve been sent here.” Patrick rolled off his back and onto his side to face Pete, who was still staring into the black abyss of his office’s ceiling. 

“I might be bad but I’m not brain dead, Patrick.” Pete knew that this couldn’t last much longer. He, the devil himself, laying around with an angel. 

The room was silent. Patrick felt pressured to change the subject. 

“Hey, why is everyone dressed like-” A knocking came at the door of the office. A loud one. A knocking that signified something important. Patrick sat up like a teenager would if they were being caught by their parents. If he had a blanket to cover himself, though fully clothed, he would have used it. 

Pete shot up to answer. He was obviously annoyed, because he had recently told Patrick they would have no interruptions. Maybe Pete didn’t have as much control over his club as he thought he did. 

From where Patrick was sitting behind the desk he just received the first blow job of his entire angel existence, he couldn’t make out who was the cause of the disturbance. Pete’s figure was still in his sights, but only a silhouette. 

He could hear whispers; Distressed ones. Something Pete had wanted done did not get done. He was raising his tone, angry at whoever had approached him. Patrick couldn’t make out the full conversation, but he could hear a few keywords like:

“Sorry...Sir...She..Didn’t…

We couldn’t.. No, she’s not dead..” 

Pete’s voice chimed in, cutting what Patrick believed to be an employee, off. 

“What the fuck do you mean? ...She was supposed to.. “ 

His voice went back down, obviously trying to keep the words unheard. 

“Those were my orders! Do I need to …. this myself?” 

The door was slammed, nearly breaking it from it’s hinges. 

Patrick stood up, collecting his thoughts and praying he wasn’t right about what he had just heard. 

“Obviously I need to hire more quali-”

“You tried to fucking kill her, didn’t you?!” Patrick’s tone of voice was in no way holding back. “You couldn’t stand it, right? Who the fuck said you could claim me anyway? I don’t belong to you, Pete. Oh my god. What did you do?” 

There wasn’t even a question of who they were referring to.

Pete played the calm card. “It’s not what I did to her. I didn’t touch her. No blood on my hands.” He held his hands out for dramatic effect and Patrick put his head in his.

“And what do you know?” He was getting so close. 

“Do you know anything about me, really? Where’s the research?” So close to ruining this for the both of them. Pete was on a roll that would throw this entire thing down the drain. 

“You’re not doing a very good job, baby.” He was hoping that things would click in Patrick’s mind. He saw no light bulb, no flashing signs above his head that signified that he was anywhere close to figuring this out. The guy was clueless. Just how the Devil liked them. 

Now Patrick was sitting and Pete was prowling. “You have a time limit. They didn’t mention that part, did they?” Patrick’s eyes rose back up and the fear set in. “Five days. One hundred and twenty measly hours to complete this mission.”

Pete checked a watch that Patrick hadn’t noticed dangling on his wrist. 

“If I don’t?”

He didn’t have to answer the question to receive Patrick swallowing hard in response. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the alternative. Patrick could feel the panic rising and counteracting the saliva. 

“I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Patrick stormed out of the room and then the club itself. Pete wasn’t going to stop him.

Walking away from his assignment came at the price of that overbearing, god awful screeching and blurred vision. It didn’t take him long to exhaust and find himself in a beat up diner a few miles out. 

He couldn’t hear the waitresses over the sound blasting in his ears and that seemed to help with his financial situation. The women took pity on him, bringing him a cup of coffee and an omelette with a note on a napkin stating “on the house”. If everything wasn’t so goddamn loud, Patrick would have given her a look of gratitude.

The breakfast food caught him off guard. It surely wasn’t morning already. He looked around, almost spinning in his seat to find a clock. When he did, it read 4:00. Patrick was only just realizing how much had passed when suddenly the only thing in his ears was a ringing sound. The door had been opened and for the first time since leaving Luxuria things were quiet. 

Patrick froze because of the change. He wasn’t so sure he was still breathing until a body sat across the booth’s table from him. Blonde hair swayed with her sitting movement. It was her, the woman he believed to be deceased for at least a good two hours. 

She smiled at him a crooked smile before sliding the plate towards herself and opening up the silverware he hadn’t touched yet.

“Hi. A ‘Hello’ would have been nice.” The woman rolled her eyes and took a bite out of his food. Patrick didn’t know if his vocal chords still worked. She eyed his coffee and he held a hand out, hoping that was the proper way to introduce himself. 

“Patrick.” 

“I didn’t ask,” She was speaking with her mouth half full, “But, thank you. It’s nice to put a name to a dick.” 

He wanted to laugh at that along with her, but he wasn’t in that great of a mood. Besides, Patrick was here for business.

“Sorry. I’m still new to this whole, ‘being’ thing.” He put his fingers to the side of his skull, rubbing pressure points. All of the screeching and blurriness left him with a killer headache.

The woman gave a strange expression, nothing like what he had seen of her that first night. 

She paused mid chew, the fork in her hand still stabbed into the food. “Holy shit.” She drew out her words, as if she was thinking while speaking. Immediately she rose from the seat and stood behind him, placing two hands on his shoulder blades, examining the premature wings. 

“He tried to kill me over one of you?!” Her voice held more anger and volume than the curiosity from before. 

“Okay, why do I keep getting the impression that being an angel is a negative thing?” Patrick spoke in almost a whisper, hoping to calm her down as she returned to where she was sitting. 

She ignored him, still speaking out loud on her thoughts. “Why kill an ally over the enemy!?”

“Excuse me?”

Continuing to eat, she responded. “You’re an angel! Pete is your greatest enemy!”

This took Patrick only but a second to finally put the pieces together. His mouth dropped as the woman continued, “I have been loyal to him since I step foot in that club. Doing all his dirty work. Every time I heard of a business venture I would seek it out..” She kept speaking, but her monologue was drowned out by Patrick’s realizations. 

He had been sleeping in the same house as Satan. THE Satan. Not just any regular bad guy, no, but the biggest bad guy of them all. The king of darkness, ruler of the underworld. Patrick was feeling the diner swirl around him. 

The woman took notice and snapped him out of it with her fingers. He jolted, speaking firmly and confidently. “How do I get rid of him?” The shaking pain in his stomach ringed true to the fact that he was forgetting the most complicated part of this; it was Pete. The guy who Patrick was practically falling down a flight of stairs for. 

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’m not helping you. You can’t get rid of the beast!”

“Well, a counsel of angels thought I could.”

She leaned forward. “Just because their wings are developed doesn’t mean their brains are.”

“Don’t you want to get him back for what he did- tried, to do to you?” Patrick was grasping at straws. 

Silently, she sat for a moment. Recollecting all her memories of Pete not giving her the attention she wanted from him. Her eyes seemed softer the second before she spoke.

“Pete started off an angel, you know?”

Patrick was thinking maybe they did send him down with an ability. 

“He was one of God’s favorites. Always at his side. Until resentment and aggressive ambition set in. One day he claimed he would rise above the ‘lord of righteousness’ and take throne. A realm was created for him and the rest is history.”

He took a sip of the coffee that had been growing cold. 

“You’re going to have to convince the ‘fallen angel’ to rise up, so to speak.” 

Standing up from his seat, the unholy noise and blur returned to him. Patrick attempted to thank her when he reached the exit. 

Patrick had a plan, in which he was finally feeling determination for. 

To his surprise, Pete’s door was locked. He knocked adamantly and two figures caught hold of his peripherals in the window. One of them was without a doubt Pete and the other seemed to be a bit more feminine. By the time the door was answered, Patrick wasn’t in a mission mindset anymore. 

He was greeted with Pete’s smiling face, almost sarcastically pretending that he wasn’t expecting him. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.” The feminine figure, now revealed to be a completely naked male nearly twirled around behind him, attaching himself to Pete’s barely clothed waist. He looked to him and introduced the pair. 

“Mikey. Patrick. Patrick. Mikey.” 

Patrick could feel his face heating up, but not from embarrassment. At this very moment he felt like he could strangle the deceiver himself for being, well, somewhat of a cheat. He pushed himself through, nodding to Mikey on his way in. 

Mikey looked to Pete, speaking not so silently. “I’m gonna leave before your boyfriend gets any more butt hurt.” 

Patrick heard the comment. But, he didn’t confront Pete until he shut the door and locked it, again, as Mikey was leaving. 

He wasted no time in sprinting over to the door where Pete stood and pushing him up against it. “We get into one little argument and you’ve got your lips on some guy’s dick?” Pete’s face didn’t change.He didn’t fight back. His expression only grew darker.

“By the way, it would have been super awesome to know before I let you suck me off that you were, fucking, Lucifer.” Pete took it in, his expression still concrete. 

“Why me? Why did they think that I could-” His words ended in a moan with Pete finally responding in the form of pushing his hips up against Patrick’s. Pete was already hard and pushing against Patrick’s now growing erection. 

He shouldn’t be able to do this to him. Patrick should be able to resist temptation, but he couldn’t. Pete had him under some kind of evil spell and in that moment, he didn’t care about the rules or the mission or anything other than showing Pete that he was his. Not this Mikey character’s. 

Pete was still silent, the two rocking their bodies against each other until it was becoming painful for the both of them. That’s when Pete grabbed Patrick by the hips and not so steadily directed them to a couch where he fell back with Patrick falling on top of him. 

The act was lust driven, at least that’s what they were both telling themselves. 

Patrick was making desperate noises, with one hand holding himself up and the other on the side of Pete’s face. Their mouths were colliding in intervals and Patrick was beginning to get impatient with the way that Pete was bucking up against him. He placed one last clash of his lips against Pete’s, biting his bottom lip on the come up and rose to stand again. 

He hadn’t even fully unbuckled his belt before Pete had flipped his body around so that he was bent over the armrest, his legs spread and holding out a bottle of lube. Unlimited appearing lube was probably a perk of being Satan. 

“Mikey fuck you?” Patrick’s voice was now at a lower octave than Pete had ever heard. It was raw and sexy and turning Pete on that much more. 

“Maybe. Gonna try to fuck me any better?” Pete’s tone was condescending. 

Patrick was positioning and lubricating himself while Pete retorted, waiting until directly after he spoke the sentence to push himself in. 

“Fuck, doesn’t feel like it.” He was surprised at how tight Pete actually was.

Something was taking over him, and he wasn’t so sure that it was entirely Pete’s doing. He didn’t wait long for Pete to adjust to his size before rocking his hips back and forth into him. Pete was biting into a pillow, making pleasurable noises the rougher Patrick got. 

His hands found their way into Pete’s hair, grabbing a handful to pull him up by. He nearly snarled when he spoke in his ear. “I’m gonna make sure you never stray again.” Pete moaned, mostly in acceptance. He wasn’t expecting Patrick to be acting on his feelings like this. He had the ability to influence, but not to this extent. Patrick didn’t really know what he meant by that. 

Once Patrick let go of Pete’s hair, he fell back down to the couch and the emotions in Patrick’s actions began to really show.

This is wasn’t fantasy Pete or fantasy Patrick. This was them; an angel and the devil in the flesh, acting out on their lust for each other. Enemies but lovers.

Pete could tell that Patrick was close, but he wanted to take a little control to finish him off. He began pushing himself back on his cock, slowly at first, making sure to go back on it as far as he could before dragging himself off of it. Heavenly noises were spilling from Patrick’s mouth and Pete didn’t want to admit to himself the changes he was feeling. 

He didn’t feel the weight of anything in this moment. Pete felt like he could fly again. Like he had been granted his wings again.

He repeated to himself inside his mind that he wasn’t going to let this happen. He was the ultimate evil one. The morning star. No angel can conquer that, especially not with a feeling like this.

But, he was. 

And he did. 

Patrick completed his mission with forty hours to spare.


End file.
